


dancing with your ghost

by laurent_exalted



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuaka - Freeform, Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloane, Depressed Akaashi Keiji, Editor Akaashi Keiji, Haikyuu Timeskip, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Panic Attacks, Songfic, TAZ: Amnesty Reference, The Adventure Zone reference, You might cry, based on In Another Life I’m so sorry, based on another fic, bokuto isn’t there, depends on how you see it - Freeform, haikyuu alternate universe - Freeform, i love them, im genuinely sorry, imagining things, its sad, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurent_exalted/pseuds/laurent_exalted
Summary: Sleeping didn’t come as easily to Akaashi as it used to.Especially tonight, on the third of February, when he took the time to mourn the brightest star in the night sky.Six years without Bokuto Koutarou was far too long.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	dancing with your ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In Another Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096105) by [LittleLuxray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLuxray/pseuds/LittleLuxray). 



> hey y’all, long time no see! I’d like to preface by saying this fic is for Dex (@uyusodasu) and I love you and I’m sorry. Dex introduced me to this song (highly recommend listening while you read for optimal sad effect, Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloane) and I think about Bokuaka every time. I was feeling down the other day and decided to write this so... I hope you guys enjoy it. IMPORTANT TO NOTE: this is entirely intended to be a sort of continuation of “In Another Life” by Littleluxray on here, there are many references to the original work and if you haven’t read it I would recommend reading that before you read this. I hope you guys enjoy it, I teared up while writing it, and thank you to Quinn (@godkinni) and Ezra (@kunaicos) for beta reading some of this for me, I’m sorry I made you cry. Anyways ily all, please enjoy!

dancing with your ghost 

————

The last rays of sun filtered into Akaashi’s room through the windowpane, casting shadows across the far wall. This apartment was small, but cozy. It was neat, close to work, and had a beautiful view of the rural area of Tokyo where he lived.

It was late winter. February in Tokyo. The nights were shorter and the days were milder. Akaashi had seen a flower pushing through the cold ground on his way to the train station that day. It had made him smile. 

His days were busy. He met with friends, sometimes Kuroo and Kenma, for lunch. He worked. He watched movies and read manga his company published. His life was nice. He liked it well enough. 

He was content, usually. 

But today he was heavy. His body felt cold and his heart beat dully in his chest. Today was February 2nd, and Akaashi stood in front of his window, watching the last of the sunlight fade from his side of the world. Darkness didn’t unsettle him like it used to when he was little. It didn’t bring back memories like it used to when he was nineteen or so. Today though...

Today was always different. The darkness settled around him with a soft sigh as he dressed for sleep. Loose sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt. A navy blue blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he settled in front of his laptop and pulled up the movie. 

It had been a long time since _Cloud Atlas_ had made him cry. He had to admit it was a good movie. Now he watched it with a small smile. As always, there was a phantom weight against his side, under the blanket, the ghost of a warmth that had been gone for nearly six years. A few more hours. 

This day never got easier. Nothing ever changed, and Akaashi supposed repeating this routine was counterproductive. He knew one day there would be someone else. He doubted his future husband would like this particular ritual. Granted, it only occurred once a year but still, Akaashi could see the issue. 

He didn’t intend to stop, though. He couldn’t. It would feel... wrong. Taboo. It would feel like forgetting, and for one day a year, Akaashi didn’t want to forget. 

Tonight felt different than all the others. The candle in the corner flickered, casting a soft glow across Akaashi’s face. The movie was long. He used to always fall asleep, pressed against a warm body, waking with a sense of guilt to a reassurance that it was ok, he could sleep. 

Sleeping still didn’t come as easily to Akaashi as it used to. Some nights were easier than others. His therapist told him he could let go. Holding onto grief was doing him no favors. Akaashi would always shake his head and smile. 

“You don’t understand.” He would say. “If you had known him, you wouldn’t want to move on either.”

It was just one night. The stars shone overhead, twinkling through the window. The clouds would cover them soon, Akaashi figured. He relaxed and focused on the movie again. It was easier now. He was almost to his favorite part. 

The blanket had long since lost the smell of _home_ , but it still provided comfort. There was a soft, sweet memory attached, of a sleepover from what seemed like ages ago. Akaashi could feel frail arms wrapped around his waist, the press of soft hair against his cheek. He still heard the faint beating of his heart. It was that memory that lulled him to sleep most nights, clutching the blanket to his chest. 

It was hard to move on. He lived his life. He was joyful. He had friends and a job he loved and he had met a man named Osamu who was very handsome and made fantastic onigiri. 

Sometimes Akaashi wondered why he had never told him his favorite food before he left.

It was almost midnight by the time the movie finished. Akaashi stood, stretched, and went to his kitchen. There was a small box of strawberry pocky on the counter. He took a single stick, taking a bite. He felt a crushing pressure on his chest. This probably wasn’t good for him. He set the treat down, suddenly sick. 

The clock in the hallway ticked, echoing throughout the empty apartment. Two minutes to go. He walked back into his living room, pulling out the record and setting it on the record player. Old fashioned, yes, but sweet. Record players had a certain charm to them. He would have liked it, Akaashi thought with a small smile. 

The notes of the song slowly filled the space as the clock struck twelve. Akaashi let the blanket fall to the floor, closing his eyes. It had been too long since he’d let himself think about him. 

Six years without Bokuto Koutarou had passed in something of a blur. He hadn’t told anyone about him. There was no point. They would offer sympathy that wasn’t truly meant because they didn’t know him. He had Kuroo and Kenma to share his grief and that was enough. His phone chimed, undoubtedly a text from Kuroo. Akaashi ignored it. He’d get it later. 

_yelling at the sky, screaming at the world. baby why’d you go away? i’m still your girl_

Akaashi’s eyes drifted upwards, to the sky outside of the window. He felt tears slide down his cheeks, and he let them. Too long. Six years was too long. 

He had loved Bokuto, without a doubt. He only regretted that he hadn’t told him sooner. He almost had, just once, but thought better of it. Bokuto almost had, he thought. He did, in a way. Akaashi still has the note in his phone. 

_“you are beautiful”_

His eyes close again. The darkness is soothing. 

_holdin’ on too tight. head up in the clouds. heaven only knows where you are now_

Akaashi’s arms wrap around himself, one at his waist, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt by his shoulder. It should feel grounding, but instead, it’s just lonely. It’s cold. He aches. He _burns_. There’s a hole in his chest. 

“Where are you, Koutarou?” He whimpers into the still air, tears slowly dripping down pale cheeks. 

_how do i love? how do I love again? how do i trust? how do i trust again?_

Osamu was nice. He was kind. He made good onigiri. He wasn’t Bokuto. He was quiet, gentle with Akaashi. He was content in a way Bokuto never was. It hurt to compare them, but he couldn’t help it. How could he love anyone else?

_i stay up all night, tell myself i’m alright, baby you’re just harder to see than most_

A sob wracked Akaashi’s body, his gentle swaying in the middle of his living room doing nothing to calm him. Tears dropped onto the carpet as Akaashi hung his head, his force of his sorrow ripping sob after sob from his hollow chest. He hadn’t cried in so long. The music was too much, but he couldn’t turn it off. 

_i put the record on, wait til’ i hear our song, every night i’m dancing, with your ghost_

The gentle press of fingertips against Akaashi’s shoulder made him jump. It always did. Heaving, eyes red and still dripping, Akaashi turned and easily buried his face into Bokuto’s chest. He could feel the warmth, solid and taller than him, holding him tight with strong arms that would always keep him safe.

Bokuto pressed his lips to Akaashi’s hair, hugging him close. “I found you.” He whispered, and Akaashi could hear his gigawatt smile without having to look at him. 

“Y-you found me-“ Akaashi stammered, clutching at the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt. “I missed you. Where did you go?” He whispered, finally looking at him. He was smiling, eyes well rested and kind, a bright golden color Akaashi had seen every night for the last six years. 

_every night i’m dancing with your ghost_

Bokuto began to sway, taking Akaashi with him. It was safe, and warm. Bokuto was sure on his feet, fingers brushing through Akaashi’s hair with ease. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone, Keiji. You’re beautiful tonight.”

_never got the chance, to say our last goodbye. gotta move on, but it hurts to try_

“I love you. I should have said. I should have told you.” Akaashi said weakly, cupping Bokuto’s jaw, brushing thumbs over warm, healthy skin. His cheeks were so soft and full, no longer gaunt and sickly. It made Akaashi ache. 

“I wish I could have told you I loved you, Keiji.” Bokuto said, brushing tears from his cheeks. “You know it’s ok to love someone else, though, right? I just want you to be happy, ‘kaashi. You don’t have to be “apathy-kun” all the time.”

Akaashi laughed weakly. “I’m trying, Bokuto-san.” 

_how do i love? how do I love again? how do i trust? how do i trust again?_

“I’ll always love you, ‘kaashi. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You don’t have to look for me in anyone else. Osamu likes you because you’re _you_ , Keiji. Like him because he’s him.” Bokuto said, pressing their foreheads together with a small smile. The smell of hospital beds, IV machines, lemon sanitizer and crisp winter air flooded Akaashi’s senses, and his eyes fluttered closed. 

_i stay up all night, tell myself it’s alright, baby you’re just harder to see than most_

Bokuto drew in a sharp breath, and Akaashi relished in the feeling of his heart beating away under his palm. 

“‘kaashi, look! It’s snowing!”

Akaashi turned, and sure enough, snow had begun to fall outside the window. A sob bubbled up through his chest, remembering that day in the hospital. The snow always reminded him of what he had lost. So innocent and pure. A snowflake was so beautiful, so unique. It would never be recreated. 

And yet each snowflake, one by one, melted away. Taken too soon. 

Akaashi turned away from the window. 

_i put the record on, wait til’ i hear our song, every night i’m dancing, with your ghost_

Their kiss was gentle, soft and slow, never taking too much. Akaashi wished he would take more, but that wasn’t how Bokuto worked. He was a giver, always giving every last bit of himself for the people he loved. 

They parted with a soft sigh, Akaashi’s hand fisted in Bokuto’s shirt. He chased his lips, pulling him back towards him and stealing another. 

“Kou-“ he whimpered, and Bokuto pressed his lips gently to his once more before they parted. 

“Keiji, I love you. But you know this is the last time.” Bokuto said, a sad smile on his face as he stroked his thumb over Akaashi’s cheek. 

“What?” Akaashi asked, eyes suddenly terrified. “No, I’ll see you again next year.”

Bokuto shook his head slightly. “No, Keiji. I can’t see you live like this anymore.” He whispered. “It’s been six years.”

_every night i’m dancing with your ghost_

“I-I know, I’m trying to move on, Kou-“ Akaashi choked back a sob. No, he couldn’t leave. He felt sick. 

“I feel so empty.” He said, pulling him closer. “How can there be good in the world when you aren’t here?”

Bokuto pressed his lips to Akaashi’s forehead, whispering his next words across warm skin. 

“You know I’m not here, Keiji. You know I’m not real.”

_how do I love, how do I love again? how do i trust, how do i trust again?_

Akaashi shook his head violently, his knees threatening to give out. “No, but I can feel you, I can kiss you I-“ he felt like he was going to puke. 

“You’re here. Koutarou, _please_ tell me you’re here.” He begged, heart stammering in his chest as he looked up at Bokuto’s sad smile. 

_i stay up all night, tell myself i’m alright, baby you’re just harder to see than most_

“You have to let me go, Keiji. Please, let me go.” He whispered, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He felt colder than before. 

“I-I miss you. Koutarou please don’t leave me, please, I don’t know what I’ll do, don’t go.” Keiji could hear his voice rising as his panic set it. Pathetic. “Stay, I love you, _oh my god don’t leave me alone again-_ ” Akaashi screamed, vision blurred from his tears. Bokuto went out of focus.

_i put the record on, wait ‘til i hear our song, every night i’m dancing with your ghost_

Akaashi’s knees gave out. Bokuto would catch him, he thought as he sank to the floor, but no strong arms came. He hit the ground, kneeling in front of the blue blanket in the dark.

He looked around, confused. Bokuto was just here. Why wasn’t he here?

“Kou..?” He whimpered into the air. 

_every night i’m dancing with your ghost_

No response. Akaashi was cold. He closed his eyes as a fresh wave of tears began. His throat was raw. He was never there. He had imagined him, every February 3rd for six years. God, he was so pathetic. 

Everything he thought he knew about his relationship with Bokuto, all the “I love you’s”, the kisses that had felt so real, the soft touches and the whispered goodbyes as the sun rose, were all a lie, made up by Akaashi’s lonely, desperate brain. 

He clutched the blanket in front of him and sobbed, raw and genuine, unable to hold back anymore. There had been pain when Bokuto had died, pressed against him in a lonely hospital bed. 

There had been pain sitting with Kuroo in his room, mourning a friend. 

There had been pain every day for the last six years. All of it had been worth it for this one night, though, and now that was gone. 

_every night i’m dancing with your ghost_

The time passed, and the sun watched Akaashi stay, curled on his floor, clutching a blanket that no longer smelled like home.

Eventually, he would be alright. Akaashi closed his eyes and remembered something that Kenma had told him, on Bokuto’s one year anniversary. 

_”One day, believe it or not, you're gonna laugh at a joke. You're gonna go swimming. You're gonna smile in the sunlight. You're gonna pet yourself a good dog, and it's gonna make you feel happy. You’re not always gonna feel like this, Keiji.”_

Akaashi sat up, opening his eyes and looking out the window as the early morning light filtered into his empty apartment. The snow was still falling, soft and innocent, and each snowflake reminded him of Bokuto. He doubted that would ever change. 

But he knew now that one day, he would be ok. 

And he was right. 

——

Two years later, Miya Keiji stood on the balcony outside his wedding venue. It was winter, and the snow fell lightly around him. He held a champagne flute in both hands, the solid gold of his wedding band tapping against the glass. He smiled down at it. 

Osamu was wonderful. He loved Keiji for exactly who he was. After that night two years ago, Keiji had told him about Bokuto. Osamu, bless him, had held him as he cried. They had gone on their first date a week later, and Akaashi had laughed, genuinely, for the first time in six years. Osamu had that effect on people. He was happy. He made Keiji happy. 

A fat snowflake landed on his hand, and Keiji looked down at it. He felt a swell of emotion in his chest, and he closed his eyes, before he looked up to the starry sky. 

“I miss you.” He whispered softly. “You would have liked Osamu, I think. You would have loved Atsumu.” He paused, lowering his eyes. “I still wish, sometimes, that it was you instead. I still love you, I’ll never stop. But I also know that when Samu asked me to marry him, I said yes because I love him too. I love him so much.” 

The words were said almost like a confession, Keiji’s knuckles turning white from how hard he was clutching the stem of his flute. 

“Life is so unfair, Koutarou.” He said, a tear sliding down his cheek. “But at least I was lucky enough to meet you. I’ll find you in another life.” 

He raised his glass to the star filled sky, twinkling like the lights in Bokuto’s eyes. Keiji swore he could see him in the sky, grinning down at him with happy tears in his eyes. He always did seem like the type to cry at weddings. 

“Thank you for coming, Kou.” Keiji breathed, tipping his glass towards the faintest outline of Bokuto he imagined in the stars. “I love you.”

Keiji drank, and set his glass on the railing. Before he walked away, he could have sworn he felt a phantom brush of fingers against his tear stained cheeks. 

He bit back a smile, and turned back to the ballroom. Osamu was waiting by the door, watching him with a fond, understanding smile. Keiji matched it, and Osamu reached out his hand. 

As Keiji walked back into his wedding, his husband on his arm, he could feel Bokuto’s warmth at their backs, his energy all around them. He was happy. Joyful, even. 

He heard Atsumu laugh at something Kuroo had said, and he smiled. It was late winter. February in Tokyo. 

And Miya Keiji was going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry


End file.
